Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. That's the job. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. " "Anything like that?" "Yes; but the colour is lavender.
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